Chapter 432
The zombie army that had risen from death advanced like an overflowing flood, like a black ocean swallowing everything before it.
They knew no fatigue, no fear, no mercy.
Every slash of a sword that struck them meant nothing, because they were already dead.
Every spear thrust that tore through their bodies did not make them stop, because they no longer possessed lives that could be taken away.
And most terrifying of all, every soldier of the Obrim Dynasty who died at their hands, every enemy who fell and breathed their last upon the soil of this village, would rise again moments later.
Not as humans.
Not as soldiers loyal to the Obrim Dynasty.
But as new zombies.
As new soldiers for Xavier.
As new weapons that would be used to fight against their own former comrades.
The soldiers of the Obrim Dynasty who had originally arrived with full confidence that they would conquer this village within a matter of days now found themselves trapped inside a nightmare with no end.
Every step forward meant the risk of death.
Every death meant strengthening the enemy.
Every battle meant inevitable defeat, because the longer they endured, the larger Xavier's army became.
Slowly but surely, the zombie army began to push the enemy back.
From the eastern edge of the village, the place where Xavier had nearly been beheaded, they advanced westward.
They passed the ruins of houses burned to ashes.
They crossed rice fields destroyed beneath the trampling of thousands of feet.
They moved along narrow paths that had once silently witnessed the peaceful life of this village.
They continued moving without pause, day and night, without needing rest, without needing food, without needing anything except the command of one person.
Xavier.
And when they finally reached the massive wall that divided the village between east and west, when they saw the gigantic structure that had once been a symbol of defeat and betrayal, the Obrim Dynasty soldiers defending it could do very little.
They fought bravely.
They fought to the last drop of blood.
They fought like cornered lions.
But all that bravery was meaningless against an army that could not die.
One by one they fell.
One by one they rose again as zombies.
One by one they turned against their own comrades.
And when the last soldier finally died and rose again, when nothing remained of the Obrim Dynasty forces on that wall, Xavier stood atop the gigantic structure that had just been reclaimed.
From that place, from the same height where he had once nearly died defending the village, he looked west.
Toward the outside world.
Toward the kingdom that had been unlawfully seized by his own aunt.
Toward the enemy he would face next.
The victory at the wall was only the beginning.
Xavier's zombie army, whose numbers had now reached the thousands and continued to grow with every battle, did not stop at the borders of the village.
Under Xavier's command, they continued advancing outward, into the world that had long been ruled by the Obrim Dynasty with an iron fist.
They stepped beyond the protective mist that had once concealed the village, a mist that was no longer necessary because the true protector had already awakened.
They entered territories that for years had silently borne witness to the cruelty of the Obrim Dynasty.
They passed through villages where the inhabitants lived in fear.
They crossed cities where the people were forced to worship false gods.
They marched past fortresses guarded by soldiers who believed themselves invincible.
And in every place they passed, in every battle they fought, the same rule applied.
Every enemy who died would rise again as a zombie.
Every new zombie would join the ranks.
Every rank would continue moving forward endlessly, tirelessly, mercilessly.
The army grew like a snowball rolling down a slope, growing larger, stronger, and more unstoppable with every passing moment.
The results were astonishing beyond anyone's imagination.
Within a relatively short time, nearly ninety percent of the territories controlled by the Obrim Dynasty had fallen under the control of Xavier's zombie army.
Regions that for years had been sources of fear, that for centuries had been symbols of cruelty, that for thousands of years had never been touched by opposing forces, now fell one by one to an army that could not die.
The governors who had once been arrogant and proud now knelt before the living dead.
The generals who had once been famous for their brilliant strategies could now do nothing but watch their own armies turn against them.
The soldiers who had once proudly worn black armor now faced the bitter reality that the armor could not protect them from attacks coming from their own former comrades.
And when news of this invincible zombie army reached the central palace of the Obrim Dynasty, when the queen's advisors began reporting that not a single fortress could withstand it, that not a single strategy had succeeded, that there was no hope left to stop the army's advance, panic spread.
The palace of the Obrim Dynasty, the symbol of power that had stood strong for years, with its thick walls and towering spires, guarded by thousands of elite soldiers, and housing Queen Xavier XVI with all her ambition and madness, finally admitted defeat.
"Was I raised all this time as nothing more than an experiment?"
Yet amid that nearly perfect victory, amid the sense of satisfaction slowly creeping into his heart after reclaiming almost all enemy territory, a new truth was revealed.
A truth more bitter than anything Xavier had ever imagined.
A truth that caused the blood that had finally begun to flow calmly after the long war to suddenly boil again with uncontrollable anger.
When his zombie forces managed to infiltrate the palace's secret archives, when ancient documents that had long been hidden were finally opened, when names and positions and roles began to be revealed one by one, Xavier discovered the truth about the people he had always considered family.
The grandmother and grandfather who had raised him since childhood, who had fed him, taught him how to walk and speak, who had sung him to sleep with gentle songs every night, who had protected him from every danger for years, were not merely ordinary grandparents.
They were mid-level rulers within the Obrim Dynasty.
They were high-ranking officials who held great power and influence within the governmental structure that had long been his sworn enemy.
Xavier read the document again and again, hoping that his eyes were mistaken, that the writing was wrong, that there was some error in the ancient archive.
But the more he read, the clearer the truth before him became.
Their names were engraved in golden ink, marking their important status.
Their positions were clearly recorded, complete with their territories of authority and the number of subordinates under them.
Their roles in various strategic decisions of the Obrim Dynasty were documented neatly, including one decision that was the most fatal of all.
The decision to attack Xavier's village.
The decision that killed all of his childhood friends.
The decision that took the lives of thousands of innocent people.
The decision that forced Xavier to watch with his own eyes as his closest companions were slaughtered one by one until nothing recognizable remained.
And beneath that document were their signatures.
To be continued…